Bittersweet Temptations
by dreamiestnightmare13
Summary: 27 years ago, two sisters were torn apart by a tragedy. 12 years ago, an FBI trainee met a psychopathic serial killer who fell in love with her. Now, 2 years after being reinstated to the FBI, Clarice Starling's life is finally perfect. Suddenly, an enemy from the past emerges, set on vengeance. Wills are tested and dark secrets are surfaced as Clarice races to stop the killer.
1. Prologue: Gatekeeper

**A/N: This is my first attempt at a Hannibal Lecter Fanfic. Be nice, my dears. *winks***

**Disclaimer: This is not mine. Most unfortunate for two reasons. One, who would not want to own the deliciously dangerous Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Two, had I ever the pleasure of owning these fine characters and storyline I would have made sure the ending of Hannibal had a much better ending. As we all know, the ending was unspeakably horrid, not to mention the result in every one wanting to slap the shit out of our dear Starling—if you will pardon my vulgar language. Thomas Harris as well as Orion, and whoever the other lucky bastards are, owns them. I also do not own the lyrics of the song Gatekeeper by Within Temptation. However, I do actually own Audrey and whatever plotline that diverts from the original storyline that we all know and love.**

**Now…let your imaginations fly…fly…fly…my darlings, as you read this story.**

_The shadows of the night,__  
__are unleashed again.__  
__Where their greed begins__  
__the end is near.__  
__A morbid hunger for blood,__  
__lies in their cold black eyes__  
__They've come to take our lives away._

**Prologue: Gatekeeper**

_Twelve Years Ago_

She stalked in an animalistic manner through the now familiar, darkened hallways of the Baltimore State Forensic Hospital, slowly and stealthily like that of a predator stalking her next kill. Her toned, slender body crept through the dungeon-like corridors, her black boot encased feet silently moved while avoiding the cameras. The black Kevlar bodysuit she donned on clung to her body, much as her feeling of exhilaration did now at the prospect of the hunt. Although tonight, she was not so much hunting as she was meeting one who hunted. A fellow hunter, as one may call it. An old friend, she mused. If Doctor Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter could be considered a friend, which, regardless of society's frown, she did consider him as one.

As it seemed, he did have a taste—no pun intended—for a person such as herself. Having known him as well as she did, one would assume that she was alright in his observant maroon eyes. The easily hack-able security network had shown that sure enough, as she had replayed the quid pro quo sessions with the Good Doctor, gazing at the tapes with her very observant eyes. Watching his moments, watching how he responded. Very intriguing. And that little, ah, _incident_ he had with Miggs…especially after his actions that night before. Yes…very intriguing indeed.

She stopped her movements, hearing a low, feminine moan emitting from the hallway to her left, two doors down. Her deep, blue-violet eyes narrowed at the noise before closing them briefly as she inhaled a deep lungful of the musty smell of the old building, breathing in the thousands of scents created by the many people that pursued the facility daily in hope of being somebody. Taking another large breath, she disregarded the stale odors from the past day's working hours and sought out fresher ones. She opened her eyes, smirking a little at the knowledge of what caused this questionable aroma. After another minute passed by, she heard a rather masculine groan and smirked wider in triumph at having presumed the correct activity of the couple. She continued down the hallway confidently, knowing that they were too busy indulged into their, ah, present nocturne pastime to hear anything.

Taking a right, she traveled down the stone-covered floor until she reached the red brick wall that sealed off any other way in or out. Of course that's what many people thought who walked this ancient, castle-like structure on a daily basis. Little did they know that there was a specific brick that if pushed in a particular spot would open a trapdoor that allowed her to sneak into the maximum security holding for all the insane evils of the world—as if they had a damn clue what the term 'evil' meant. If she were allowed to speak freely to them, she would most definitely tell them to look into the mirror if they wanted to see real evil. Silently, as always, she slipped into the tunnel and closed the opening behind her, carefully. She then continued her progression to her mark.

Another unusual noise flowing through the corridor, causing her to, once again, pause her advancement. The secret passageway she traveled down presently—not found in public records nor known by the naïve, oblivious practitioners or the ignorant, power-seeking supervisors that were under the ridiculous impression that they policed this nation—seemed to be filled with a quiet hum of a classic melody that she could not currently place. But that was not something that she cared to indulge her magnificent brain in as there were far more appealing subjects to ponder upon than anything as petty as a temporarily forgotten hymn. The tune may have been unknown right now to her but the voice was not a mystery. It was one that echoed through her thoughts in the day and haunted her dreams at night. She felt her pale pink colored lips curve upwards; she was getting close.

_Closer, please…_

_Closer…_

Smiling humorlessly at the taunting voice seeping into her mind again, she perused forward until she saw small, rectangular-shaped slivers of light coming from a circular opening up ahead. The speed of her pace increased upon seeing this. Almost there…

She removed the barrier, setting it down behind her gently. She then sat back on her haunches, crouching much like a cat as she served the situation below her. Several pipes ran both in lines both in parallel and intersecting formation, not precisely close but not impossibly far away either. Also, there was the trivial matter of the three story height to contemplate. Nevertheless, it was an easily feasible feat to get to the ground. Impossible for most, yes, but not for her.

With a considerable amount agility, flexibility and swiftness, she managed to reach the unforgiving, cold floor of the so-called dungeon. Although she had not made a sound, she knew that he knew she was there. Walking on her tip-toes in a more than cliché sneaking manner, she approached the cell of the renowned psychiatrist, passing by the three empty cells that had once belonged to the other sociopaths. When she passed by Miggs' cell, she smirked remembering the call from Jack Crawford.

_Miggs is dead._

_Dead? How?_

_They heard Lecter whispering to him all afternoon and Miggs crying…They found him at bed check. He'd swallowed his own tongue._

So, she walked closer to the last room…

_Closer…_

Just until she was just a few feet away…

_Closer…_

She reached the cell, approaching, but not touching, the bulletproof glass fearlessly with slow but smooth, fluid strides. Even with her hawk-like eyes and wonderful night vision, she could see no movement. For a slight moment, she almost believed that he wasn't there. Stupid. Idiotic. Naïve. So when a familiar voice of consisting of the strange combination of both silk calmness and piercing metal struck through the air like a recently sharpened knife, it took every inch of her being to not appear startled. "And to what occasion do I owe the pleasure of this obviously unauthorized visit, Clarice?" She then heard him take a very deep breath. "You are not Clarice," his voice now taking on a rather curious tone.

"No, Doctor. I am not," she responded, her accent sinking deeply into her words and a vampire's smile now playing on her coral-colored lips as the moonlight glistened off her unusually razor sharp incisors. "You know, I have always thought rather favorably of you, my dear Hannibal Lecter. Although, it would seem that I now find myself quite offended by your lack of knowledge upon my identity, Hannibal. You do not remember who I am?"

There was a shocked pause. "Audrey?" The deep voice had taken on a somewhat surprised quality that was exceedingly rare to ever hear from him.

"Ah, so you do recall who I am," Audrey replied teasingly. "I thought for a fearful second that this inhumane cage you have cruelly been trapped in had begun to desecrate that magnificent brain of yours."

"Never," Hannibal retorted, easily falling back into their past banter, a smile clear in his tone. "That incompetent Chilton may take away every other freedom that I might so meagerly attain in this dungeon, but he will never rob me of my thoughts. I can promise you that, my dear."

She approached the glass wall that separated the two of them with a smile; a true one this time. "How have you been, H?"

"As good as one can be considering the circumstances that I have endured in for the last eight years," Hannibal responded, a faint sliver of bitterness.

Audrey nodded understandingly. She was all too familiar with what it was like to be in a position of entrapment and unable to do anything about it. It was actually the reason she knew Hannibal in the first place. He had saved her from a childhood of loneliness and a teenaged life of isolation. Audrey practically owed her life to Doctor Hannibal Lecter. "I can't believe it has been eight years."

"Neither can I, Audrey."

There was a pause.

"I was at your trial, Hannibal," Audrey spoke hesitantly.

"I know. I saw you," Hannibal took a deep breath. "Although it was nice to see a friendly face in a sea of sharks, I really wish you hadn't gone. It was not my finest hour, let me assure you."

"I owed you that at the very least." She looked down, studying her boots. "But nothing could've stopped me, Hannibal. Not even my foster parents—for lack of a more appropriate name to call them seeing as they were not around. They were horrified when they found out that their foster daughter had been spending the majority of her life with a serial killer." She laughed at the memory. "They attempted to ground me, but I just ran away. Having turned eighteen earlier that week, I saw nothing that could possibly hold me back."

"You always were ridiculously stubborn."

She laughed lightly. "So says the man that would refuse to listen to 'Goldberg Variations' on a CD because he claimed that it messed up the C and D notes even after the record player broke."

"Touché." Audrey could hear the smile in his voice.

A comfortable quietness fell between the two friendly companions. Sighing heavily, she broke the silence. "It seems only yesterday that we were engaged in an exchange of one of our 'quid pro quo' games—"

"Say that again."

She looked at him strangely, the sudden sharpness in his voice startling her a little. "Say what again—?"

"Quid pro quo. Repeat it, please."

"May I ask why?"

Hannibal was clearly not in the mood to answer her question. "Just repeat it."

Still lightly confused, she nevertheless relinquished to his request, saying with exasperation. "Fine. Quid pro quo. Doctor, why—"

Suddenly, he was there, right up next to the glass, maroon eyes flashing. "Why did you not tell me?"

"Tell you what—" she stopped herself, realizing exactly what was going on here. "Because you had not known her up until a few weeks ago. What purpose would it have served to tell you eight years ago when you had no knowledge of her?"

"You could have written it to me."

"And have that unbearable bastard, Chilton, read it? I think not. He already gives her enough hell as it is without knowing about me."

His maroon eyes seemed to penetrate her very soul as he examined her. "I cannot believe I had not noticed this before. You look almost exactly like her in a twisted manner. The indigo eyes...the dark hair...and the ah, _fangs_, aside, of course."

"You have not seen me for eight years, Hannibal. I have changed from that little girl playing in the piano shop to a young woman. I would not blame you for not recognizing the relation between the two of us. No one has before."

Hannibal continued to examine her. "Fraternal twins, I imagine. May I take another assumption in deducting that you were sent off to foster care at the same time that she was sent off to the cousin's ranch?"

"Yes. Our cousins could only take one of us. They choose her, of course. As you and I both already know, I was in hell that year when they decided to adopt me. I was only ten years old. Then, that one cold, Christmas day, I decided to play on my favorite piano at that music shop that I always retreated to when I needed an escape from my monstrous foster parents. I remember that I had just finished Beethoven's 'Ode to Joy' when nice man came up behind me and offered me piano lessons. Of course, my foster parents were ecstatic to have such a reformed, elegant man taking such an interest in my music ability. They allowed me to come over and take lessons from him," Audrey smiled kindly at him. "And the rest is history."

"I have to admit, that was the most beautiful playing that I had heard in a long time. I could hardly believe that you were as young as you were." Hannibal smiled as well. There was a moment of blissful happiness before he went on to a more serious matter. "So, my dear Audrey, why is it that you have come here? And please, refrain from lying. As good as you are at it, I will still know."

She didn't doubt it for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she answered. "I came here to both see you, as a trusted friend and a former apprentice, and to ensure my sister's safety. I know you will eventually get out, it is rather inevitable as we both know, and she has enemies—enemies that will harm her. I also know that you have enemies that—if it is found out of your fondness to her—they will most likely use that against both of you."

Hannibal tilted his head slightly, indicating for her to continue. "I have done my best, as I have been doing since I found out our relation, to keep her safe. I am okay for now at protecting her, but I cannot do it alone, Hannibal. I know you care for her. It is rather obvious in the security footage I have seen of your, ah, intellectual discussions together. She tried to deceive you a few days ago; foolish as we both know. If you had not cared for her the way you did, or as deeply as you do, you would not be feeling a sense of betrayal right now." Audrey paused. "I know you are going to escape in Memphis. That handcuff key that you've been making—don't be shocked that I know. Why else would you keep staring at Chilton's beloved gold pen as he lay there mocking you yesterday?—is what you're going to use, isn't it?"

"It appears that I have perhaps taught you a little too well, my dear."

"Only the best from you, H."

After a moment, Audrey looked at her watch, realizing the time. "Hannibal, the orderlies will be waking up in the next three to five minutes. Can you please do me that favor of helping me protect Clarice?"

He seemed to consider it for a couple of seconds, but they already knew his answer. "Alright. I will assist you. And to answer you from before…I will not deny any of your allegations that you have set upon me nor will I refute any of the assumptions you have insinuated thus far. But I will also not agree to them either."

"You never can make it easy, can you?"

"Where would the fun be in that, my dear? Are you suggesting that I live a boring life as well as make other's lives just as dull? I do have a reputation to live up to."

Audrey laughed at that. "And lest we forget about your massively over-sized ego…"

"Oh, never, Audrey, never. That would be simply criminal—pardon the pun if you will."

There was a groan from down the hallway, suggesting that one of the orderlies had begun to awaken. "I'm sorry Hannibal, but I need to—"

"Go," he stated simply, gesturing to the hall.

"Alright. I will…" Audrey put her hand up flat against the glass, smiling sadly. "Good-bye, Hannibal Lecter."

He likewise put his hand up to the glass, precisely where hers was but on the opposite side of the glass. "Until we meet again, Audrey Starling."

Then she was gone, nothing more than a flutter of the wind. Later, when she thought back to this particular moment, she could have sworn that there was something being whispered as she exited. Almost as if a soft, gentle verbal feather was going through the air…

_Fly, fly, fly…_

_Fly, fly, fly…_

**A/N: Let me know what you think :) Constructive criticism is welcome with open arms. However, if you will, please refrain from blatantly using a verbal flame thrower if you do not find this story up to your high level of standards. If you feel that you must use it…well, we all know what the good doctor thinks of discourtesy and unspeakable rudeness. Need I say more? *silence* I thought not.**

**Now if you don't mind, please review.**

**Ta ta,**

**Dreamiest Nightmare**


	2. Chapter 1: Ice Queen

**A/N: Thank you my darlings who reviewed. It is much appreciated to get feedback. I also want to apologize for the not so immediate update. I have to make sure that everything is perfect in my writing before I post it for you all.**

**This chapter is from Audrey's point of view. And as much as I despised the ending to the movie, **_**Hannibal**_**, I am using it for this particular story (except for the plane ride part). I do believe that I mentioned that this story is a combination of the books and the movies, but if I have not, you all now know.**

**Oh, and one last thing. Some of you may be having a hard grasping what Audrey looks like. For all of you who have seen the Underworld movies, you are quite in luck. Just imagine Selene with longer hair and blue-violet eyes and you'll have Audrey. Yes, including the fangs and the voice (not so much the accent as the way she says things). Because if Audrey is going to be a badass she might as well look like one, agreed? *pause* Thought so.**

**Disclaimer: Look at the Prologue for the disclaimer. In this chapter, I do not own the lyrics to the song 'Ice Queen' by Within Temptation. **

_Your heart turns to stone  
She comes at night when you are all alone  
And when she whispers  
Your blood shall run cold  
You better hide before she finds you  
Whenever she is raging  
She takes all life away_

**Chapter 1: Ice Queen**

"Is Clarice Starling here?"

The stereotypical busty blonde receptionist glanced up over her black rectangular frames from the computer screen that she had been working on. Her recently manicured fingers stilled as her jade-green eyes glazed over in disinterest and disapproval after she scanned my wardrobe distastefully, which today consisted of: skin-tight dark-washed jeans with a little bit of flare at the bottom over knee-high, leathery black boots with a three heel and a black leather jacket fitting snuggly over a rather deep V-neck shirt. Dear god, I hated these types of women. It wasn't as though I needed a replay of my entire four years at high school. (Oh believe me, going through it once is quite enough.) They think that they can dissect my entire life, being, soul and personality being using their blunt little eyes to examine my attire? I felt a sudden but not unfamiliar surge of dislike towards the woman. I knew, if I so desired, I could easily remove those criticizing eyes with my beloved—not to mention completely wicked—Spyderco Civilian that was currently taped to the inside of my left boot. Maybe then she would think twice before judging someone before actually getting to know them properly.

However, I was quite sure that if she had any idea that I knew everything about her (Sometimes having the ability to hack into any place online comes in handy. But shhh, don't tell anyone.), she would be far more willing to oblige to my request. Or maybe she would just freak out and run from the room. Perhaps if I had time later after I met up with H for lunch, I could make a visit to her house. In fact, hell, why don't I just bring him along? On second thought, he wouldn't go for another 'murder appointment'. Not after what happened with my sister at Muskrat Farm as well as the whole incident at the Chesapeake lake house. I had personally watched him swear that he wouldn't kill again. At first I thought he was joking, but his eyes told me otherwise—twin maroon oceans that held emotions I had never seen in his eyes; regret, sadness, longing, love. I had known that in that very moment, Doctor Hannibal Lecter had changed. My beloved Hannibal—the most vicious, fearsome, and wanted man in the United States—was becoming a big ol' softie over my twin sister. Joy.

I watched as the blonde receptionist blew a bubble obnoxiously and then popped it right in my face. As I wiped the small amounts of pink gum that had landed on my face, I could feel the violent monster within me snarl for her pain. For her agony. For her torturing. To have those mocking green eyes shining up with fear and intimidation as I tore my teeth into her throat's flesh, ripping it, devouring it, savoring it—

Shaking myself mentally, I subtly reminded my craving that I needed to keep a low profile. I hated how I had to relinquish this feeling because clearly this world would not be missing this bitch. I know I wouldn't. Remaining calm, I flashed my most charming, patient smile. "Ma'am?"

"She's not here right now. She's out." The receptionist went back to work typing, clearly dismissing me.

"In the field?"

"That information is classified and not available to non-agents."

Oh, well, that's the biggest load of bullshit I've heard in a while. Internally frowning in annoyance, I could feel myself debating whether or not I should just kill this irritation. I managed to quash that desire yet again. What good would all of this careful hiding had been for if I called attention to myself by slashing her throat in broad daylight in the middle of the FBI? Now, if there wasn't near as many cameras or security guards or the fact that this was the fucking FBI's main building, the situation would be a lot more different. Bending slightly over the Colonial Cream granite countertop, I gave her a sheepish grin. "Well, she and I were supposed to go out to lunch together at one o'clock and it's now—" I glanced down at my watch "—1:21. Do you have any idea when she might be back?"

"Nope."

"Okay—" I paused half a nanosecond as I recalled her name "—Barbara. Could you at least point me in the general direction of her desk?"

"Unauthorized personnel are not allowed in the main building unless they have permission from an administrator or other supervised official," she quoted rudely, still not bothering to look up at me.

By this time my patience was gone and my self-control had practically snapped. Whoever said that patience was a virtue was in desperate need of a swift kick in the balls. Leaning over so that my next statement could not be heard, I growled icily under my breath. "Listen to me right now. I need to go see Clarice Starling's desk. Whether or not you think you will allow me to do so is your business. But I would _highly_ advise you to think carefully before answering. Your son, Benjamin, right? Age 3, sandy blonde hair and dark brown eyes? He's currently in Riverside Pre-school on the corner of West Chestnut and Royale Road, isn't he? It would be a pity to have to, ah, _deal_ with him." Barbara looked up from her computer finally, and I smiled down at her, showing my razor-sharp incisors. Casually, as not to draw attention, I opened up my black, leather jacket to show her the awesome Smith & Wesson Model 500 Magnum Revolver that I had tucked away into the inner coat pocket. Thank god that the security guards at the front of the building were easily distracted by attractive women or I sure as hell wouldn't have gotten inside the J. Edgar Hoover Building at all. All I had to do was smile and they were like putty in the palm of my hand. I might be thirty-seven but I could sure as hell still turn heads. And without any plastic surgery. Take _that_ Hollywood!

I watched as her eyes had widened in shock and terror as they landed on the weapon, giving me a burst of immense satisfaction. (Hahaha! What now, bitch?) It never ceased to amaze me how much fear could change one's behavior. All of her cockiness and disrespect was gone. Now we were getting somewhere. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her hand stray over to the phone.

"Oh, honey, you don't want to be doing that," I said smoothly with a deadly casualness that came easy with being a serial killer. I could feel my body relax as I was now in the familiar 'predator' territory; threatening someone's life. Or in this case, someone else's. But that was beside the point. The fact was it was an empty threat because I would not leave a small child motherless like that. Not after what happened to me. (Come on. I _do_ have limits, you know.) It was still fun though, even if I wasn't going to follow through with my intentions. "Let's recall Lil Benjamin, mmm?"

"Who are you? What do you want?" her voice was shaky with terror and panic. I very nearly grinned at her obvious frightened state.

"It's not important who I am." I held out my hand in a blatant show of impatience. "Visitors pass, please."

After I had delivered the letter to Clarice's desk, I strolled out of the building casually and down to the parking garage that held my car. It was only when I got into my Dagger GT that I removed my waist-length platinum blonde wig and took out chocolate-brown contacts. Thank god that my wig had long enough bangs or I would have had to have had dyed my eyebrows blonde. Looking at myself in the rearview mirror, I let out a small giggle at the thought of me going around with jet-black hair and blonde eyebrows. Now _that's_ a very sexy mental image. Shaking my dark curls loose from my pony tail that had held my hair in place, I placed my aviator sunglasses over my indigo-colored eyes before putting the key into the ignition. I took a moment to appreciate the fearsome roar belonging to the twin turbocharged V8 engine from the supercar beneath me. Pulling out, I made my way over to the gate.

A low whistle came from the security guards above me. "Nice ride," the first one said in admiration.

"Thanks."

"What's it go?"

I revved it for a few seconds, giving the dropped-jawed guards a smirk as I glanced over my sunglasses. "Now…may I have my receipt, please?"

Still in an awestruck state, it took them a few minutes of rather hilarious clumsy scrambling before they finally handed it to me. Driving off, I finally let out the laugh that had threatened to overcome my cool and calm exterior. Most modern men were oh so easy to sway. I mean, let's take the guards for example. All it took was a badass car and a sultry smile, and they were practically eating out of the palm of my hand. I snorted at this conclusion. Pigs. Sadly, there were very few men who were tasteful—heck, least of all descent—nowadays. In all retrospect, Hannibal was actually one of those few males. As my luck would turn out, he was infatuated with my sister, obsessed perhaps, or maybe even as far as—dare I say it—being in love with her. I mean, it wasn't like I hadn't noticed him as a man. Hell to the freaking no. Kinda hard not to, quite honestly. He was extremely handsome, irresistibly charming, and not to mention, remarkably intelligent…that was not a doubt. I was quite aware of _that_. I mean, any woman that was alive could see it. But how could I possibly compete with someone of my own flesh and blood? Especially since she was the only family I had left, genetically speaking. And besides that, Hannibal was my best friend, my trusted mentor, as well as my advocate. I wouldn't have risked ruining my friendship with him for anything, even that little crush. Over the years, he and I became closer, and thankfully the crush ceased to exist and was replaced by a strong, unbreakable bond.

Or at least I had _thought_ my crush was gone, when in fact it had actually grown beyond anything I had ever have predicted. Typical, right?

I remember when he was arrested. I had been walking down the hospital's hallway on my way to my daily visit to his room when it had happened. I watched the police officers take him away. Nothing had ever gone through had hurt that bad. Not even when my father died. I had felt like my heart had been stabbed with a knife followed by it shattering into a billion pieces. Shock, grief, and despair, along with many other depressing emotions, assaulted my being violently. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, hell, I couldn't function at all. It was as though I had been zombie-fied into a rapid down-spiral into an abyss of depression. My life seemed as though it was falling apart at the seams Hannibal had so passionately sewn together all those many years ago. I remember his trial like it was an HD video in my mind; every character witness, every juror's expression, every allegation, every argument…the verdict.

Placing a hand at the base of my throat, I stroked the dark, brass-encased Harpy eagle talon that hung around my neck in the thick, matching chain. The almost supernatural-like comfort that came from the necklace was ironically not that hard to understand. A few weeks after he had escaped from Memphis, I received a red, velvety box in the mail containing the piece of jewelry now adorning my neck. Underneath the package, there was a note in heavy, expensive paper, written in a familiar, elegant script.

_My dearest Audrey,_

_As you probably are aware of by now, I have escaped imprisonment. My current whereabouts I cannot disclose in this letter, due to the risk that this might be seized. Although it is rather unlikely, I do have to be careful. It is not that I do not trust you—there should never be a doubt about my trust to you, my dear. It is just simply that the sense of freedom is an indescribable pleasure after being locked away like an animal for eight years. _

_Which brings me back to my original purpose of writing this letter to you. I do believe that I missed your eighteenth through twenty-fifth birthdays. And for that, I do apologize. In my defense, I did not have the ability to send things to people from my cell. As we both know, Doctor Chilton does enjoy his petty torments. I trust that you will enjoy my gift. For the next few weeks, you will receive gifts for every birthday I missed. I know that you most likely will be hesitant in accepting them as they are quite expensive. Do not worry. I have plenty of money. _

_This necklace is for your eighteenth birthday. I do hope that you will remember me when you wear it._

_I now wish you well until we meet again, which will hopefully be soon. Until then, my dear…_

_Ta,_

_Your Hannibal_

_P.S. I do plan on keeping my promise._

Over the next couple of weeks, I received seven more gifts, as promised by him. First was the key to a new house. It was a stunning, yet modern-designed mansion; three stories high with a basement as well as multiple bedrooms, a vast living room, an enormous library, a media room, an elevator (Yeah, that's right. I have a freaking elevator in my house.), and a rather large swimming pool in the back. Three days later, a piano was delivered to my new house, one that I recognized as the piano I had been playing when we had first met. Two days after that, a Dagger GT—painted up in jet black with blue-violet flames on the sides and black chrome rims on the tires—was parked in my driveway with the keys in the ignition. (I almost felt bad for H. The supercar—as well as its design—was not at all in his tastes. It must've killed him to get it.) A few days afterward, there was my revolver that was currently in my inside jacket coat pocket sitting on the granite countertop of my kitchen along with a gun cleaning kit. Next was a massive weapon set, which I found already set up on beautiful, dark brown shelves in the basement. (Almost like my own personal bat cave…without the cave and bats part.) After that was his signed cookbook, _The Joy of Cooking_, (although how the _hell_ he got it out of the evidence box that was in FBI custody is beyond me) which I found in my kitchen and I assumed it was meant as more of an inside joke than anything. My final gift was my personal favorite: a Spyderco Civilian. It was almost the equivalent to his Harpy, but the Civilian had a far more wicked curve to it. It was without a doubt a most worthy blade of Hannibal Lecter's protégé. Underneath it was a small portion of the expensive paper with elegant cursive written on it that I had grown oh so familiar with over the years.

_See you soon._

It was seven years after that note was sent when I heard from him again. (Seven freaking years? What the hell did you mean by 'soon' exactly? Soon as in, sometime before the freaking next millennium? Seriously, H?)

And I will never forget that night. Not as long as I live. It haunts my dreams on a regular basis. I remember it being a gloomy evening. And it was in the course of that evening's events that I realized that I had fallen in love with Hannibal Lecter.

I was quite lucky in fact that he had personally trained me to be an expert at hiding my emotions. Had I been anyone else, he would have easily been able to tell my feelings. I was also able to control my body language and my body responses from being obvious. Although, I have come to realize that restraining my temper is not nearly as easy as hiding my love for my best friend. I honestly don't know what that says about me.

Turning into the parking lot of the restaurant, I scanned the cars until I found a suitable spot right next to a gorgeous, yet familiar, black Jaguar. He definitely must've reserved it though how was another question entirely. Oh, well. Who am I to complain about having an awesome parking spot at a dreadfully hectic restaurant?

I put the car in park, and stepped out onto the concrete, shutting the door and locking the car behind me. Casually, I strolled through the parking lot, my hair flared out behind me like one of those stupid hair coloring commercials. I kept up that speed until I reached the front entrance way. I nodded my thanks to the employee that held open the door as I walked by, a burst of cold, air conditioning chilling my body as it hit me, allowing my body to relax slightly. I only slowed my pace when I approached the hostess at the greeting podium.

She looked up as I advanced her. "Do you have a reservation?" She asked in a somewhat irritated way of a greeting. Dear god, was everyone in a bad mood today? Did I miss it being National 'Be an Asswipe to Your Customers' Day on Facebook or something?

Ignoring the impatience, I smiled charmingly. "Yes."

"The name the reservation is under?"

"Doctor Hopkins."

She scanned the thickly bound, black booklet for a moment. "Ah, yes." Grabbing a menu, the hostess gestured for me to follow her. "Right this way, ma'am."

I trailed behind her as the young hostess lead me to a small table for two, located towards the back of the restaurant. An older gentleman, dressed finely and sophisticatedly in a nice suit with his dark—although slightly graying—hair combed back in a slick, elegant manner, sat there with his back toward me, appearing to be scanning the menu. However, I knew he had sensed me when his shoulders rolled backwards causing his vertebrae to straighten in the most minuscule of movements, only to be detected by the upmost trained eye. As we walked around the table, I got a better look at my companion, although I never had a doubt who it was anyway. Our eyes met for a brief second, red-violet connecting to blue-violet, as we acknowledged each other's presence and our happiness at seeing one another again…even if it had just been this morning when we had last seen each other.

Is it pathetic to be in love with someone who obviously feels nothing but a deep friendship with you and that particular someone is in love with your twin sister and that sister is engaged to someone else?

You know what, on second thought, don't answer that.

If only Clarice could truly understood what she was missing out on. Stupid, ethical, FBI loving—

The hostess pulled my seat out for me. I smiled my thanks before she parted and sat down. I didn't have to see his expression to know that he was grinning faintly at me. Glancing up into the face of my maroon-eyed companion, I saw that indeed he was smiling. It was quite a rare sight to behold, but I was honored to be one of the few that were treated to it. Contrary to popular opinion, Hannibal was more emotional than most people. You just had to know how to find it and bring it out of him.

"Good evening, Doctor Hopkins." I greeted him, my lips turning upward in a full, true simile.

Hannibal's grin widened, causing his maroon eyes to sparkle. "Good evening, Miss Chikatilo. I took the pleasure of ordering our dinner for us. I do hope you don't mind."

I pushed my menu to the side with my slender fingers, smirking slightly. "Not at all."

A comfortable silence fell over us until I broke it. "Isn't it rather risky to have lunch out in the open—in Washington DC none the less—without a disguise?"

"Ah, but that is all part of the fun, my dear," he replied with an evil smile that I loved. I watched as his eyes scanned my attire in one quick sweep, a single eyebrow cocked questionably. "You went into the Bureau looking like that?"

"Mmm-hmmm," I answered as I took a long sip of the wine in my glass. As I put it back on the table, I smirked a little bit. "The front entrance guards didn't even pat me down. They were too busy staring."

Hannibal smirked at my answer. "I do hope you didn't give them a heart attack."

I couldn't stop the faint blush from creeping up my cheeks. He had never given me a compliment like that before. It took me half second longer than it should've to answer. "No. That wouldn't have been very inconspicuous, would it now?"

"Most certainly not, Audrey," he replied before taking a sip of his wine. "I trust that the delivery went well?"

"I had to improvise."

He raised both eyebrows this time. "Improvise…?"

I flashed a wicked grin of my own. "I threatened her son's life."

"And she bought it?"

"Well, after I flashed her my S & W 500 Magnum Revolver it went rather smoothly."

The good doctor laughed, eyes practically glowing with delight. "That's my girl."

That statement, along with his laughter, caused me to chuckle as well. For these past five years, this laughter as well of the old banter between us has increased in the amounts. As have many things…

I have had to clean up my sister's mess that she left behind at Chesapeake all of those long years ago. Well, the chaotic mess of Hannibal. Single handedly, she had almost destroyed him; something I, along with many other people, had thought impossible. His past horrors of his childhood had created what he was, and he had offered to give it up before Clarice that night. She had not only rejected him, she had betrayed him as well; using his emotions and feelings towards her to try and capture him. Stupid child. When I had heard of this, I had not felt anything but rage towards my twin. That rage increased to outright fury after I found out a few weeks ago about her marriage engagement to a local county officer named Charles Porter. Un-freaking-believable. I mean, seriously? Like Hannibal needed any more pain from her stupid choices.

Idiot.

And despite everything, every so often I still catch him gazing into the night's sky, watching the stars. Sometimes when I walk by his room at night, I can still hear him whispering her name in his sleep. Occasionally I still find him sketching her with charcoal by the fireplace in the corner of the vast space of the living room. I can still see the love reflected in those maroon eyes…its intensity infinite…its depth immeasurable. Even after what she did to him...he was still in love with her.

Moron.

Hmmm…so I'm related to an idiot and in love with a moron. What does that make me?

…don't answer that.

**A/N: Kinda a cheesy way to end the chapter, I know. Please, my dears review. I do love reviews. Due to schedule conflicts, posting will be irregular and I may not post for long periods of time. Sorry darlings, but that's how my life is right now. **

**What else is there to say? Oh, yes, that's right. The last name 'Chikatilo' that Hannibal addresses Audrey by is the last name of a Russian serial killer and cannibal, Andrei Chikatilo, who was dubbed the name the "Russian Hannibal Lecter". Since Audrey's foster family was indeed Russian, I figured that it was appropriate to use it as the last name of the family as well as Audrey's 'official' surname. As we all know, she is technically a Starling, but her last name was changed legally when she was adopted by the Chikatilo family. Hannibal is the only one who calls her 'Starling', but refrains to do so in public since Clarice has made her name well-known.**

**Did you all notice the reservation name? And the name Hannibal is going under? Take a moment to smile at it. It is thanks to Sir Anthony Hopkins that we too have Hannibal Lecter's voice in our heads. His voice ever haunting our everyday lives that before now seems silent in comparison. Agreed? Yes or no, my friends? *winks***

**One last thing. The letter that Audrey puts on Clarice's desk will be explained sometime in the future. It is rather important so please refrain from blowing it off as an insignificant detail. No, I am not going to tell you what it is. I do have to keep some mystery to the story, hmm?**

**Hopefully that cleared up some questions you all might be having. I do believe that's all for now.**

**Ta ta,**

**Dreamiest Nightmare**


	3. Chapter 2: Memories

**A/N: Thank you for all of you who have reviewed. I appreciate the feedback as always. **

**This chapter is just really about Hannibal's and Audrey's relationship. This occurs that night after they had lunch in the restaurant. Remember that nightmare Audrey mentioned in the chapter before? This is where you learn what that is. The letter? You'll get it next chapter. I promise. Seriously, would I lie to you? Of course not. That would be rude. And we all know what happens to rude people…**

**Also, I highly advise you to grab a tissue. It might get a little angst-y. Honestly, I cried while writing this. But shhh don't tell anyone. I have an image to keep here, you know.**

**Disclaimer: Look at the Prologue for the full one. I also do not own 'Memories' by Within Temptation.**

_All of my memories  
Keep you near  
In silent moments  
Imagine you'd be here  
All of my memories  
Keep you near  
The silent whispers, silent tears_

**Chapter 2: Memories**

_Don't you die on me, Hannibal! DON'T YOU FUCKING EVEN THINK ABOUT—_

_BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP_

_NO!_

My eyes flew open as I sat up ridged in my bed, still screaming. "Oh my god oh my god oh my god. No no no no NO! He can't be dead—" My head jerked around the room, eyes unseeing. Everything was blurry. WHY THE FUCK IS EVERYTHING BLUR—oh. It was just a dream. No, wait. Dreams are filled with happy things like unicorns and rainbows (Oh dear god, seriously? Now I'm starting to sound like a Barbie movie re-run.), not the death of your best friend by your own hands that you could've prevented. No, that was a nightmare. And that same damn nightmare was what haunted me every night. EVERY FUCKING NIGHT. (Okay, go ahead and laugh. But, you try it. Go ahead. I freaking dare you.)

As my superior senses returned to me, I could feel my soaked clothes clinging to my trembling form from the sweat pouring off of it. My breaths were loud and raspy as my lungs struggled desperately to get a descent breath of air. The ribs in my upper body felt as though they were going to shatter from my heart pounding like a hammer in my chest. The adrenaline that was rushing through my veins started to fade, leaving only a violent tremble in its place. Soon my straining gasps became full, body-shaking sobs. (What the hell? I never cried…damn hormones.) Hugging my knees to my chest, pressed my face into my legs as flashes of my nightmare came back to me. Vivid, picture-like images. Suddenly, I felt a warm, familiar presence beside me and two strong arms embracing my figure. They held me close, rocking me back and forth while the being who grasped my body whispered words of soothing comfort. Wrapping my arms around his torso, I turned my face and buried it into his chest, still sobbing uncontrollably. He gripped me tighter, placing his chin on top of my head and began to stroke my knotted curls with one hand, while the other held me near. Occasionally he would press his lips to my head while he continuing to mutter of calming reassurance.

"I'm here…I always will be here…I won't leave you, sweetheart…I promise…"

I didn't calm down for a long time (and NO, I did not keep crying to stay in Hannibal's arms longer…I mean, c'mon, I'm not _that_ desperate…yet). When my sobbing finally stopped, I just kept holding him as he did to me. It was as though neither one of us wanted to let go. I closed my eyes and smiled as I felt my body begin to relax at the sound of his heartbeat's steady rhythm. It wasn't until I had stopped crying that it dawned on me that here I was, sitting on my bed in the arms of the man that I loved...that didn't love me back. (Damn, this is pathetic. I can't get any breaks, can I?) I also realized that somehow, I had been moved from my bed's mattress to Hannibal's lap. (Not that I was complaining or anything. I mean, would you?) My breathing stopped for a moment as I came to this conclusion. (Shit! He would notice that, dammit! Why was it all of a sudden that I couldn't hide my love hardly at all from him?) Apparently, Hannibal did notice my lack of breathing because he stopped his movements. (Well, damn IT.) Slowly and gently, he pushed me away. I couldn't look him in the eyes.

"Look at me."

His hand came up and touched my face. No, 'touched' isn't the right word. No…it was much more of a loving caress. (That loud smashing sound you just heard was my heart exploding through my rib cage.) Feathery light strokes brushed along the side of my face, causing my eyes to flutter shut from the pure bliss of it all. (Yeah, Clarice definitely had no freaking idea what she was missing out on.) He cupped my check, turning my head in his direction while gently forcing me to look into his maroon eyes as he angled my face upward. I was helpless to my swelling emotions that fought to stay hidden as he scanned my face, searching for some kind of explanation. (Shit shit shit shit shit!) Only when his lips turned slightly upward at the corners in a sympathetic smile did I realize that every action of mine in attempting to hide the truth had been futile. (Had I honestly thought I could keep this from him? I could've sworn I was slightly smarter than that last time I checked.)

"Oh, Audrey…" he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically overflowing with guilt. Hannibal brushed his mouth against my cheek then nuzzled his cheek against mine affectionately. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

I managed to find my voice somehow in that second. (It is rather difficult to talk or think rationally when the man you love is breathing in your ear.) "You have nothing to apologize for, Hannibal."

"I will have to disagree with you on that one, my dear," he replied, his warm breath on my neck causing me to repress a shiver that crept deliciously down my spine. "It appears I have caused you much pain."

A sad smile tugged at my lips. "My pain is worth it if it meant saving your life."

He pulled back to look into my eyes in an almost desperate look. "But Audrey—"

I stopped him from saying anything further by placing a single finger on his lips, the gesture surprising him. "Hannibal, there is not a thing in the world I would trade for to have the outcome of that night be anything than what it was. Even if I have to lose a few nights sleep because of what happened, I would never wish for anything to be any different. You are alive. That is all that matters to me." My voice began to break towards the end of my speech. Gently, as to show its significance, I removed his hand from my face with one of my own and turned my head into it. With a tender care, I grazed my own lips over the thin white scar that encircled his wrist where I had surgically put his hand back on the night he came over after the lake house incident. I gazed at him as I did this; watched as his nostrils flare and his burgundy irises darken. These were dangerous waters I was testing. As in, I-was-in-the-ocean-while-there-was-a-Category-5-hurricane-going-on-around-me-and-sharks-were-swimming-at-my-feet kind of waters.

Untangling myself from his grasp before I could do anything that I might regret later, I strolled over to the glass doors that led out to the balcony. (What the fucking hell? Were Clarice's moral ethics are rubbing off on me? That would not do.) I pushed open the doors, the late night breeze blowing back my long locks as well as my silky, black nightgown. Placing my hands on the red-cheery wooden balcony rail, I looked up into the sky at the constellation of Orion, my shoulders drooping as I sighed in defeat. No matter what, I couldn't do anything with Hannibal. I couldn't kiss him or touch him intimately or make love to him…nothing. It felt…wrong. Because Clarice had marked her territory all those many years ago. I could almost feel her presence when he was around me. It was visible on the outer surface. No…no it was much deeper than that. Clarice had made a mark across Hannibal's very soul. Not even I could touch that.

Crossing my arms, I bowed my head so that my chin was pressing against my chest as I tried my hardest not to cry. Damn her. Damn my sister for getting everything I always wanted. Getting _my_ Hannibal. Getting _my_ job. Getting _our_ Daddy's attention. Dear dad wouldn't pay any mind to the 'bad seed' of the family. My sexual assault when I was 6 left me as—I guess you could say—'damaged goods'. He loved Clarice more than me, that much was clear. Loved her purity…loved her innocence…loved the 'good twin'. Now, I was trying to redeem myself by wiping out anyone who dared try to defy me again. Why, if I tried my best to do the right thing—to set things _right_—was I punished like this? Why must I have to hurt after all the shit I've been through?

The air behind me stirred. I knew he was there. I could smell him…feel him…hear him. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and rested his chin on my shoulder. Bringing my chin up, I nudged his face softly letting him know that it was alright. His arms tightened around hips and he dropped a light kiss on my shoulder before placing his face right next to mine again. He didn't need to say anything. It was not necessary. This was one of those moments where silence was all that was needed.

We stood like that for the longest time, not saying a word. The glorious sun came up, and we watched it rise, silently mourning our loved one's inability to love us back.

**A/N: Yes, I know that this is shorter than my previous chapters. I am sorry for that but I didn't want to dwell on the sadness of it. I also realize that this is a more angst than my other two chapters. I felt like it was time for some of it. As for the nightmare…well, for those of you who didn't catch it was Audrey dreaming that she let Hannibal die on the surgery table rather than saving his life. **

**This next chapter will include the mysterious letter, I promise. **

**I do feel rather bad for Audrey as well as Hannibal. It makes me sad to do this to them, but it is necessary for the story. I know Hannibal may seem like he's a bit out of character, but remember, Audrey invokes a different reaction from him since they have known each other for so long. And yes, Hannibal does love Audrey but not exactly in the way she wants. He knows it and shows it by his deeply caring actions you see towards the end. **

**I think that is all I have for now.**

**Ta ta, **

**Dreamiest Nightmare**


	4. Chapter 3: Caged

**A/N: Thank you for everyone who reviewed. Although I'm not gonna lie, I am rather disappointed in the lack of reviews. It makes me sad. **

**This beginning of this chapter is from Clarice's point of view and the setting is set at an hour after the letter delivery occurred in the first chapter. The letter makes its appearance finally. Yes, the anticipation was about to kill you, wasn't it?**

…**but please refrain from dying. **

**So that there is no confusion, Hannibal's point of view (third person) starts after the 'Three days later' appears in italics. It's kinda obvious but I just wanted all of you to be aware of it.**

**While you read this, take a moment and reflect back on the style of Chapter 1. Notice how Clarice and Audrey seem to take a similar manner of thinking. Honestly, that is one of the very, very few likenesses they possess. Other than that, they are literally night and day from each other…with Audrey being the night and Clarice being the day, of course.**

**Crawford is alive in this story. I am unsure if he died in the books. Right now, I am currently reading "Hannibal". Yes, I did skip to the infamous Chapter 101. I had to see it for myself. I was so incredibly happy. Of course, that caused me to throw not one, but both of my shoes at the screen of my TV at home when I watched the movie version of "Hannibal" the following day. That, of course, was followed by a long stream of rather vulgar language mixed in with some insults aimed at Clarice herself. I'm sure all of you agree that this was a most appropriate action. I am sure that if Audrey were with me while I watched it she would have broken the TV. **

**Disclaimer: Look to the Prologue to find the full one. Within this chapter, I do not own the lyrics of the song 'Caged' by Within Temptation.**

_My heart is covered  
With thoughts entangled  
How could it ever have felt so real?  
Is there a place more lonely than I feel within?  
Could I have seen?  
Could I have known?  
I just took it as the truth  
Everyone with a friendly face  
Seems to hide some secret inside_

**Chapter 3: Caged**

_The previous day_

God fucking damn.

That was the only thought that entered my mind as I slammed the door to my beloved Mustang. A reoccurring thought, actually. Fury pounded through my veins along with the left over adrenaline that always came with going to the scene of a homicide. A low, animalistic growl emitted from the back of my throat as the scene of the crime entered my mind again. It was ridiculous. How the hell could a killer be so skilled that he couldn't possibly leave any trace in any, shape, or form? I mean, I understand if he hadn't left any _evidence_ behind, but no scent? Hell, the canines couldn't even get a whiff of him even though the body had been there for less than 12 hours. Was this guy like a ghost or somethin'? It was like he was three steps ahead of us. Like he knew how we worked, how we functioned, how we did things. I mean, seriously? It's not like we advertised what how we did things. There's no 'Learning all of the FBI's Secret Investigative Techniques for Dummies' at your nearest Barnes & Noble. A red haze threatened to completely obscure my vision as I stormed away from the muscle car in an almost childish manner, drawing attention to myself from the other agents around me. Like I gave a rat's ass. They could think whatever they wanted of me. Never stopped them before. Especially not with the whole—

I'm not even going to go there. Even so much as attempting to think about HIM was promising a violent explosion of anger that would probably result in me getting suspended and someone getting hurt. My day was already going to hell without HIS voice in my thoughts.

"Clarice!"

"Leave me alone," I snarled, not even bothering to give my best friend my attention.

I had made it to the curb when I felt a hand grip my shoulder, hard. Fiercely, I jerked it off. Ardelia should know better than to try and stop me when I was in a rampage. I had managed to put one foot in the street when two hands griped my right arm and yanked my body around. Okay, so maybe Ardelia didn't know me as well as I thought she did. If I was to be honest with myself—really, truly, brutally honest—I would say that there was only one person in the world that knew me extremely well.

Nuh uh. We are so _not_ going there, girl.

Ardelia had either grown really stupid or had forgotten everything she really knew about me because she shouldn't have even bothered to try and follow. "Stop this, Clarice!"

"Stop trying to stop me!" I shot back, practically growling.

Ardelia balled her hands into fists. "Dammit, girl, listen to me!"

"No!"

That's when she slapped me across my face, shocking both me and the small crowd of spectators that had gathered around us. I couldn't believe it. My best friend just bitch-slapped me. What the hell? When had our verbal arguments at our shared apartment complex turned to physical fighting in the middle of the front of the FBI HQ? Well, now apparently. I drew my arm back to release a violent punch—

"Starling!"

Inwardly, I cringed at the familiar voice of Jack Crawford. Shit. This was awkward. My friend/boss walking into me about to punch out a fellow agent. In the middle of the goddamn parking lot of all places. Wait…what the hell was Crawford doing out of his office in Behavioral Science? Actually, scratch that question. The better question was _why_ the hell was Crawford out of his office in Behavioral Science? It made little sense or reason. Well, unless something important had happened…something that had dragged him from the comforts of familiarity. I took a moment to look over at him and examine his facial expression as well as his body language. Alright, I saw fear…anxiety…concern…more fear. And all his attention was focused on me. Well, that narrowed it down to one possibility.

Doctor Lecter was back.

Grrreeeaattt. Just great.

*.*.*

"How in the hell did he do it? How the fucking hell did he, one of the 10 most wanted men in America, manage to just stroll in here—into the FBI's main building, might I remind you—and deliver a letter to my desk? With all the security guards and cameras and other agents around?"

I now sat in the middle of a table that seated eight in a spacey meeting room filled with people. Glancing around at the people in the room, I felt like I was an injured rabbit surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves. Special Agent Clint Pearsall sat the furthest from the door on one of the ends, eyeing me with a fair level distrust. (Oh, joy. I guess there's not gonna be any help coming from him.) To his left sat Larkin Wayne from the FBI's own Office of Responsibility and to his right was Assistant Director Noonan. Jack Crawford, my only ally in the room, sat nearest to me; across and to my right one chair over in a diagonal manner. There was another figure in the shadows, but I paid no mind to them. I don't care who you are; pretending to be Batman was pathetic in any line of work.

Crawford re-adjusted himself in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. I couldn't hardly blame him. If I was in his position, I sure as hell wouldn't be chillaxed. (Who was I kidding? I wasn't even at ease in _my_ position.) "Starling—"

"He used a woman."

I turned to my right to see the figure in the shadows had revealed their self. It was a female that I unfortunately recognized as Natasha Halls, Paul Krendler's successor. What are the chances that I despise her almost as much as Paul? Was it fate or something? Are all the people chosen to be deputy assistants Inspector General of the U.S. Department of Justice jackasses? How in the _hell_ does that happen?

Regardless, I was intrigued and shocked and…whatever that other emotion was that I was so incredibly _not_ going to ponder on about Doctor Lecter having a…woman companion. How did she know this anyway?

Natasha continued on without even the slightest hesitation. "About an hour or so ago, a dispatcher from a local police department received a call from a receptionist that worked here, in this very building. She went off claiming that some woman threatened to kill her son because she wouldn't allow the woman to pass to deliver this letter to your desk." She took an envelope enclosed in a sealed evidence bag out of her inside jacket pocket and slid it across the table. "Handwriting analysis tells us it's from Doctor Hannibal Lecter."

No shit, Sherlock. I haven't even looked at the damn thing yet and I could've told you that much. There was only one person in world that would write to me.

Somehow—through some superhuman ability that I had not known I possessed—I refrained from rolling my eyes. I did, however, sigh with in an extremely exasperated nature. "Ms. Halls, will all due respect, if you have already gone through and read the letter, why am I here?"

"Because of the content of the letter, Agent Starling," she replied, walking over from her standing place on the wall to a spot nearer to my being. Was that a flash of wicked glee that I just saw glimmer in her eyes? Aw, hell. That can't be good. "In your report of the events that occurred at Chesapeake, did you by any chance leave out any information? Any," Natasha stood not a foot away, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, "Uncomfortable scenarios that you wished to try to cover up and/or escape from?"

For a moment, fear gripped me. How was it possible that she knew? I hadn't told anyone the full truth of what events had happened that night, not even Ardelia. It was then I realized that Natasha was hoping that I responded in a fearful manner while stumbling over words to attempt to hide the fact that I was lying. Or even perhaps act in an overly defensive manner. Regardless, I now knew that she was fishing for answers in a misguided hope to incriminate me. Slimeball. That goddamn fucking slimeball. She must have picked up that lovely trait from Paul. Halls was reminding me of her predecessor more and more ever minute that this conversation went on. You know, all that classiness and professionalism and that great direction of right and wrong that Paul had possessed.

Thankfully, but unnecessarily, Crawford actually came to my rescue. "Ms. Halls, it has been five years since that incident happened. Agent Starling was under a heavy dosage of morphine given to her by Doctor Lecter. The fact that she remembered anything was nothing short of extraordinarily. She called the police and tried to stall Lecter before their arrival. When he found out her intensions, she managed to handcuff herself to him in a last ditch effort to prevent him from escaping. Even so, he cut off his own hand with a meat cleaver and took the hand with him for an unknown reason." He leaned over the table with his hands clasped in front of him. "May we continue with the original topic of this meeting rather than asking Agent Starling to recall events that happened half a decade ago?"

Natasha's body language suggested that she was unhappy with Crawford's response, but her facial features did not betray it. When the hell did I get so observant? The Good Doctor was most definitely rubbing off on me. That thought should have made me shudder with an intense repulsion, but for whatever reason, it made me feel rather—

Nope. Still not going there. Remember Starling…you are engaged.

_You are engaged. You are engaged. You are engaged._

Pssh. Nice one, Starling. Like repeating that phrase is going to change your feelings.

Oh, so you have feelings for him now? Of course, you've known that, haven't you? Especially in the Chesapeake lake house when he kissed—

I'M NOT LISTENING. I CAN'T HEAR YOU. LA LA LA LA LA—

Ignoring the childish internally battle that was raging in my mind, I managed to at least on the outside look like I was somewhat sane. "What does the letter contain that might have brought you to your earlier conclusion?"

"Why don't you read yourself?" Natasha replied, the steely edge in her voice as sharp as Doctor Lecter's Harpy.

Well, fine then you royally stuck up bitch. I'll read the goddamn thing. I had just begun to examine the letter's contents when she interrupted my silent reading. "Out loud."

I glanced up at her with an eyebrow raised before turning to Mr. Crawford questioningly. He shrugged ever so slightly before nodding his permission to go ahead. Alrighty, then. I guess I'm doing this. I took a deep breath before I began.

_My dearest Clarice,_

_It has been a long time since our last encounter, has it not? Although we may not judge time in the same way, five years is quite a while regardless. Many things have changed, haven't they? Your reinstatement to your beloved FBI as well as your engagement to that county officer, Charles Porter. Are you attempting to flush out all that reminds you of me in some sort of a feeble effort to have a new start? Do not fret, my dear. We both know that it just as impossible for you to forget me as it is for me to forget you. Has my voice joined your screaming lambs in your dreams, Clarice? I imagine that it has. Does that make you shudder? With horror or with…pleasure? No need to answer, my dear. We both know the answer._

_My apologies. I seem to have become sidetracked from my true reason of writing this letter. You always have had an uncanny ability to distract me. Let us continue:_

_Many things have also changed for me as well. I now have become re-acquainted with an old friend from the past. Perhaps you have heard of her? Does the serial killer name 'Archangel' ring any bells? Yes or no, Clarice? If not, do not worry. Ole Jacky boy should be able to fill you in. Unless he is there listening to you read this out loud in front of a group of executives. Do say hello for me._

_Now, now, my dear, do not let the green-eyed monster get the best of you over my darling Archangel. Although it is highly amusing—not to mention dripping in irony—in thinking of you being envious over my current female companion, it does not surprise me given the aspect of our, ah, relationship. I imagine your smooth, pale cheeks turning a slight red upon reading this, either in school-girl embarrassment or jealous anger. Is this accurate? I believe that it is regardless of the fact that I cannot see you at this particular time. I know you better than most. Do not forget that. _

_Ta,_

_Your Hannibal_

I could practically feel the awkward tension as I looked up from the expensive stationary. Every single one of the executives was staring at me like I was some kind of new found species. Natasha was smirking victoriously. Shit. I had just been played. Glancing over to the Crawford, I found him looking at me with wide eyes that seemed to be filled with a distrust that I had not seen in my direction from him before. Wonderful. My only ally was now in doubt. Shit. Why did Doctor Lecter have to do this to me? Did he want me to be miserable? Why couldn't he stop?

_Would you ever say to me, stop? If you loved me, you'd stop?_

Shut up.

"Because of the nature of this letter, we believe that you are a prime fit."

Do these people like this always talk in incomplete sentences? Like we are supposed to know what they were thinking? I mean, seriously? "A prime fit for what?"

"For Operation: Beast," Natasha smiled in a manner that sent way more chills down my spine than Lecter could ever do. "You are going to bring Lecter in by being the 'bait'. He clearly likes you, Starling. Really likes you. Use it against him." She got into my face, a threatening snarl on her lips. "And if you don't and you contact him or fail to complete the mission, I will personally see to it that you are permanently suspended from the FBI." Now the others were looking at me with identical expectant expressions on their faces. Like wolves leering on their prey.

So, let me see my options here: If I agree to this, Doctor Lecter will most likely kill me when he finds out. And if I don't agree to this, they're going to take way my badge forever.

Well, shit.

*.*.*

_Three days later ~ Present day_

"—we now have news that FBI officials have in fact confirmed the rumors of Doctor Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter being in romantic relations with the female serial killer, 'Archangel'. The couple is now to be in an allegiance and are perhaps even in a relationship. Information regarding the exact source of this is being kept confidential by the FBI, but it has been leaked that Special Agent Clarice Starling is somehow involved. Investigators have also told us that the U.S. Department of Justice's new deputy assistant Inspector General, Natasha Halls, will be leading this investigation to capture Doctor Lecter—"

_And they still have yet to update that old mug shot photo_, Hannibal thought, amused, as he gently plucked the remote for the large plasma out of Audrey's slack hand and hit the mute button. He took a moment to stretch the stiff muscles in his strong arms before reaching out for the glass containing his favorite wine, Chianti, and taking a luxurious sip. Tenderly, Hannibal swept a few loose strands out of the face of her otherwise perfectly sculpted face. She was flawless in every way, his Audrey was. Hannibal smiled at that. His Audrey. She knew more about him than any other living person in the entire world did and she still loved him. Although he would never admit it, he was still completely shocked about that. Knowing what he is…what he had done…what he was capable of doing. Having been by his side all those years…

In the hospital—after Will Graham had severely injured him—visiting him from the beginning of visiting hours until she was kicked out. Even after she was kicked out, Audrey would sneak in at night and stay there until the sun's rays began to peak over the horizon, lying with him in the rather uncomfortable infirmary bed, and watching over him like a silent guardian. (For whatever unexplained medical reason, Audrey didn't need to sleep very often in order to receive a full state of rest. Whereas normally, it takes 8 hours to reach that level for a normal human, she only needed 3 hours at the very most.) He would never forget the day they carted him off. The look on Audrey's face when he was being drug away in handcuffs down the hospital's hallway still haunted his dreams.

She was also there at the trial. If she had not known what he was before it had occurred, Audrey did then. When he was being cross-examined on the witness stand, he kept eye contact with her. It kept his anger controlled. As he had once told her, she was a friendly face within a sea of sharks: a sea of sharks that drooled over the concept of him being incarcerated for life. Within the trial's proceedings, every single suspected notion and alleged accusation came forth, Hannibal found himself for the first time since Mischa was taken away gripped with fear. Audrey at that time was his world and to lose her would have ended it for him. But she didn't walk out of courthouse. She stayed there, her striking blue-violet eyes telling him words of encouragement and showing her boundless trust and unbreakable faith in him. When the verdict came, those brilliant indigo irises darkened in a rage of unspeakable vengeance much like how rain clouds block out the sun's rays on a clear day when a storm is approaching. Little did all of those imbeciles in that courtroom know, the result of his trial was inadvertently the sole cause for the rise of the serial killer, Archangel. The dark irony of it all was not lost on him.

Three nights ago, Hannibal found himself in a state of utmost astonishment yet again. He had known that Audrey had cared for him, yes. That much was never a question or a doubt. But to find out that she loved him in all of his entirety with her hear, body and soul, everything that she was... To look into her eyes and see pure, unconditional love in its truest form. A rarity so few were privileged to receiving presented to him with open arms.

Strange it was to feel again as he had long ago buried all his emotions deeply inside. Regardless, it hurt him beyond rationale pain to have to decline her love for him. To have to tell her that he was in love with her twin sister, who had hurt him unlike any other and fraternized with the enemy. But Audrey already knew that. She had known for some time now. She was quite the clever girl. Of course, he had taught her well. Oh so very, very well…

Audrey shifted her position in his lap so that her figure was snuggled closer to his body, distracting him from his thoughts for a moment. Still in oblivious sleep, she murmured his name in a blissful sigh causing him to smile. Gazing down affectionately at her sleeping form, he stroked her midnight locks, wondering briefly if she knew how much he wished he could love her as she loved him. He knew that they could have been truly happy as a couple. She was the ideal mate for him: that much he knew. Everything about her was in turn matched in his own way and manners. How it was possible to fall in love with someone that was your supposed enemy, Hannibal would never fully understand. He in no way could have imagined or would he have ever predicted that meeting in the asylum to lead to this outcome.

Ironic, he mused as he continued to watch the television. The definition of insanity was repeating the same thing over and over and expecting different results. They claimed him to be insane and yet they constantly attempted to capture him in the same manner expecting to detain him. Fools.

They all would be dealt with eventually. For now, he lifted his glass to the screen, currently showing Natasha Halls talking at a press conference. Flashing a dangerous smile, he spoke, "Let the games begin."

**A/N: Review please, my dears. As you all should be aware of by now, I love having feedback.**

**The next chapter is when the fun begins. Audrey and Hannibal do love playing with their food before they eat it. Vampire and Cannibal. Remember that. That is the only hint I'm gonna give you. **

**Ta ta,**

**Dreamiest Nightmare**

**P.S. I am using Julianne Moore's Clarice Starling in this story. I do love Jodie Foster's version just as much but let's face it. JM is a tad bit older looking and just seems to fit better. I dunno. That is just my opinion.**


	5. Chapter 4: Deceiver of Fools

**A/N: Greetings again, my darlings.**

**Thank you for all of you dears who reviewed. I would also like to mention that those of you who are reading this and are not members of this site may also leave reviews as anonymous reviews. Just letting you all know. No I'm not desperate, I just love feedback. **

**I would also like to apologize for the long wait for the update. Real life is quite tedious sometimes.**

**In this chapter, it gets kinda confusing. At the beginning, we are back to Audrey's review for a little bit. After the first '*.*.*' that you see, it switches to Hannibal's point of view. After the second '*.*.*' it goes back to Audrey point of view. I know, it is a little tricky but I'm just trying to save you all a bit of confusion.**

**Also, the setting is a little bit tricky. Remember when I said that there was a basement and that's where all the weapons were stored? Well, there's also a room holding a high-tech security monitoring system that when activated, turns on all of these miniature video cameras that are placed strategically throughout the mansion that allows the viewer to virtually see everything that is occurring in every room of the household. When it switches to Hannibal's point of view, he is in that room watching Audrey perform her magic. Yes, you will have to read the chapter to know what I'm talking about. No, I'm not telling you anything else. Yes, I am quite possibly evil, however, do not judge me. It is quite rude. And as we all know, rudeness doesn't sit well with the Good—and Delicious—Doctor himself.**

**Disclaimer: Full disclaimer is located in the Prologue. In this chapter, I do not own the lyrics to 'Deceiver of Fools' by Within Temptation. Most appropriate song for Hannibal, yes? Thought so. **

_In a world of the free  
He plays with your mind  
As faith for the future faded fast  
He grows strong with their displeasure  
It sets him free  
Deceiver of hearts  
Deceiver of fools  
He rules with fear_

**Chapter 4: Deceiver of Fools**

_Two Weeks Later_

"Are you ready?"

I shot Hannibal a withering look, one that few living souls would ever dare to do if they savored their lives. "Are you serious?"

He cocked an eyebrow, raising his eyes just long enough to meet mine before returning his visual attention to my shoulder-blade-length, auburn-shaded wig. "When am I not?"

_So says the man who thinks everything in life is a game._ Fighting a smile, I replied with a casual air, "_Well_, there was that one time at Christmas when you got drunk and you—"

"Sweetheart, I thought we agreed never to speak of that again," Hannibal interrupted me in a light, but serious voice of warning. Despite his words and tone, I could tell that he was mildly amused. As always—at least for me—his maroon eyes were like an open book (Okay, so he was more of a library if I was to be honest, which I normally am…most of the time…when it's convenient...nevermind.) that I could access at will. Of course, that's how mine were to him, that I was very much well aware of. That, I might add, had sucked royally back when I was trying to hide my less-than-appropriate feelings for him from him. I mean, talk about a total bitch.

Flashing a wicked grin in the mirror, I decided to tease him a bit more. "I'm shocked, Hannibal. Your magnificent memory palace clearly eludes you when you are rip-roaring drunk. Since you do not remember, I'll take pity upon your temporary helplessness and tell you what really occurred during the morning in question. I agreed to nothing. As I recall, you asked me precisely to hold my silence on this subject matter a few minutes following your waking up the morning after with that monstrous hangover and then passing right back out without hearing my answer." I paused, tapping my chin as if trying to recall a memory. "Although, I do, however, remember you mentioning something about Dante's cheekbone." I shrugged nonchalantly. "Quite frankly, I don't really know how I reacted to that. I think I just ignored it and blew it off as temporary insanity due to the deliriousness that was left over from the alcohol that still plagued your system at that time."

"Watch it, sweetheart." He mumbled his voice like that of poisoned honey. By this time, I knew he knew that I was purposely pushing his limits. I was well aware that the intelligent—as well as probably the safest—thing for me to do at this point would be to stop my current teasing. To continue doing this would be the equivalent of mocking a hungry lion by dangling a juicy, T-bone steak right within a tantalizing reach but not close enough to actually obtain it.

But honestly? This was wayyyyy too much fun to stop.

I didn't have any idea why he was being so unusually touchy today. For whatever reason unbeknownst to me, he had woken up this morning in a really grumpy mood. (Hard to imagine, I know. Mister I-am-always-in-control-of-my-emotions being a regular grump-o-saurus in the early morning just like the rest of us normal-ish mortals.) Whenever Hannibal was like this, it was best to keep a good distance; much like you would to an irritated tiger. But today…today, I was feeling kind of…audacious. (Now, whether it was out of sheer stupidity or some kind of insane fearlessness that I had somehow picked up out of the blue was still yet to be determined.) Haha, I guess you could call me "Audrey-acious". (Dear _god_ that was a horrible pun.) My thoughts were interrupted when I could feel his breath warm near my ear, tickling the hypersensitive skin on the back of my throat. Sharp prickles of pain made me suddenly very aware of the fact that my fingernails were digging deeply into my clenched palms as my body fought itself in keeping a calm, controlled exterior rather than just letting ago, and melting into his highly suggestive movements in sweet surrender. ARGH! God_damn_ him. Okay, relax girl. Deep breaths. Just focus Audrey. Just focus and—

OH. MY. GOD. Was that his tongue that just lightly traced my coritied artery? My muscles went completely ridged as I struggled to repress a delicious shudder from traveling up my spine. Jesus Christ, he was making it awfully hard to think properly, let alone retaliate wittily in this verbal sparring of ours. I should just be thankful that my voice didn't sound like I had just joined the cast of Alvin and the Chipmunks. Hey, now _that's_ a cute thought.

Shaking the irrelevant idiocy from my mind, I forced myself to concentrate. "Make me, _honey_." I sassed back defiantly; eyes narrowing slightly with mischief, lips smirking impishly.

Huh. Now that I think about it, perhaps that wasn't the smartest thing to say to a psychopathic cannibal, AKA the man I was head over heels in love with.

His face suddenly appeared over my shoulder in the glass. The expression donning on his face was a dangerous one; burgundy eyes glaring daggers, nostrils flaring, lips pressed together in a thin line. (Yep. I was _definitely_ working towards having an early death.) "Don't make me punish you for your noncompliance towards me, Audrey. You know that I will not tolerate any variety of rudeness directed towards me." I dropped my eyes from his to my lap, almost afraid of what I'd see there. There was a scarcely half pause before he spoke again.

"Look at me."

Argh. Seriously? How did one sound so incredibly sexy when giving out orders? I mean, I knew for a one-hundred percent fact that I wasn't in any way, shape, or form a submissive. That thought alone was ludicrous. A cold-hearted serial killer being a sexually submissive woman? I internally snorted at the notion. Pssh. Yeahhhh. Right.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly raised my eyes and—

_Rawr_.

I almost fell out of my chair as I pathetically attempted—and just barely succeeded—in biting back a gasp as his eyes met mine in the mirror; they were like twin burning-red coals hot off the fire, practically glowing with heated intensity. WHOA momma. Hot fucking _damn_. If that look in his eyes is any hint to what the punishment will be…

Well, heh…

SWEET DEAR LORD JESUS _please_ punish me. (I mean it. Pretty please? No, I'm not kidding. Okay, yes I am…but not really.) I mean, hell, I'll get on my knees and _beg _for it. Screw my dignity, fuck my pride. Ima woman with a drop-dead sexy man looking at her like a piece of meat. Give me a lil' bit of slack here.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I opened my mouth to retort sassily when I felt his teeth lightly scrape the sensitive flesh on the back of my neck. The gasp I had been holding back escaped huskily threw my lips, my eyes flying open in the process. His eyes were practically black as his gaze burned into mine; the pupils of his maroon orbs dilated almost in full range from the intensity of his anger. Shutting my eyes again briefly, I tried desperately hard to regain control over myself. Dunno why I even bothered. Any of the small shards that were left of my control was being ferociously shredded by the heat waves coming off his firm body that was pressed up against my back none so gently. Dammit. I could feel my arousal becoming in more obvious now that I was temporarily not in control of my response to his attentions. My own body was battling itself—a sort of fight or flight mode that was more like a turn-around-and-totally-ravish-this-drop-dead-sexy-man-like-some-sort-of-ravenous-beast or run-like-hell-out-of-this-bathroom-before-you-do-just-that. I took a moment to consider the situation. Naturally, I significantly preferred the first choice over the second one. I also faced the surprisingly not uncomfortable truth that he could smell my scent. (Big shocker there. I swear he had some kind of superhuman ability of smelling every-goddamn-thing.) Knowing that, I resorted to my usual, Captain-Jack-Sparrow-worthy plan: make it up as I went along.

When I re-opened them, I saw that Hannibal's lips had turned upward in a shrewd kind of smile.

What the…? Why—

Oh.

Oh _hell_ no.

It was then that I realized that he had just been toying with my emotions like some kind freaking…deranged psychiatrist. (Okay…maybe not the _best_ insult in the entire world.) He had been using my feelings towards him to get me back for my sassiness.

He did so _not _just—

I looked more closely at the reflection of his smirk in the glass as well as that knowing glint in his maroon eyes again just to make sure.

He _did_.

Why you—

"Son of a bitch," I whispered shakily as his smirk widened. "That was completely unfair."

He returned to fixing my wig as if nothing had happened. "Life is not suppose to be fair, my dear."

Still reeling from his actions and having temporarily lost my ability to come up with a witty reply, I choose to instead stick out my tongue in a rather childish manner, causing him to laugh. His body was still close enough so that I could feel it travel through his chest, vibrated my own being as it rumbled like thunder of an approaching storm. My focus was lost again. It was pathetic really. Me trying to keep my focus was like a toothpick trying to stand up in front of an F5 tornado. Damn him. This was definitely not a fair fight at _all_. In fact, this whole damn thing was starting to irritate me a little bit if I were to be perfectly honest.

I narrowed my eyes slightly in clear annoyance. "Stop it, Hannibal."

"Stop what?" He asked innocently. (Oh, puh-lease. Insert dramatic eye roll here and spare me the Idiot Treatment. Like this man didn't have a clue what he was doing to me. C'mon now.)

I rolled my eyes. "You know what."

"I'm afraid not," he stated simply.

"Are you now?" I smiled cheekily. "I thought you were a human being."

He gave me a look as if saying, 'Really?' The tension, which had steadily been building within the room from the moment I had decided to be irrationally bold, snapped. Whether it was from the hilariously incredulousness look he had given me or the just purely the utter relief of getting back to comfortable grounds, I covered my mouth as I began to giggle uncontrollably, inadvertently causing him to chuckle as well. It was a rich sound much like that of the finest symphony orchestra, although it was incomparable in its beauty. Hands down his laughter won in magnificence. The rare pleasure of hearing such a melody was one that I enjoyed with enormous relish and savored with immense delight. Yes, bragging rights are mine. And yes, you are quite allowed to be jealous.

Now that I think about it, I seriously loved this banter that we had between us. Some of the most prized memories of my life came from these repartee sessions. It was incredibly nice to have someone with my level of intelligence—255, just in case you were wondering (yes, drown in your sorrows as you read that)—to go back and forth with. Trust me; it is much harder to find smart people nowadays than it should be what with the massive amounts of resources and advancements that this generation of inventors and scientists has accomplished. Hell, I can even remember back when there were no computers—

Oh, well, shit. Now I'm dating myself. That's wonderful.

"Okay, my dear." Hannibal's voice broke through my thoughts. "Finished."

Focusing on the mirror again, I noticed that he had completed perfecting my hair. His eyes were also back to their usual calm, collected maroon and his facial expression gave no hint of anything that had happened within the last five minutes. Damn him (I was doing a lot of damning of him this evening, wasn't I?) for his ability to manipulate my emotions to such an intense degree. Since when had he gotten so slippery? Was I rubbing off on him or something?

_Well, you know you want to rub up _on_ him…_

SHUT UP! Goddamn hormones. And my period isn't for another two weeks. Stupid body…

I slid out of my chair slowly, checking my reflection in the mirror. It struck me as odd on how similar I looked to my sister with my red wig...

Wait a second.

I looked like Clarice.

Hannibal was in love Clarice.

Hannibal had just manipulated my feelings for him.

An evil smile curled across my lips as an idea struck me. Bwhahaha…

This could be fuuunnnn.

Turning around, I sauntered slowly in a predator-like manner towards Hannibal, who was standing a few feet behind me. He raised an eyebrow in amusement, although by the way his body language was screaming wariness at my actions, I knew he was far from amused.

Good.

"Enjoy the show," I purred seductively, leaning in a breath away from his mouth. I could hear his breath hitch ever so slightly, giving me a thrill. Slowly and gently, I grazed his bottom lip lightly with my sharp, pearl-white teeth then lightly traced the same area over with the tip of my tongue before pulling back at a leisurely pace. I stroked a single finger under his chin slyly once before I strolled off smoothly as if nothing had occurred, much like he had done before. My lips smirked victoriously as I felt his eyes on me all the way out of the bathroom doorway. I was trying my absolute hardest not to bust out laughing at the incredulously stunned expression I saw on his face from my peripherals as I rounded the corner. There was no point really. A few moments later I gave in to the temptation and threw my head back, laughing wholly.

Yeah, bitch. I can do it too.

*.*.*

"Miss Julianne Foster?"

"Yes?"

"We are from the FBI." The two agents flashed their badges simultaneously.

"Ah. Good evening, Officers."

There was a small pause.

"May we come in, ma'am?"

"Yes, of course."

I allowed myself a small grin at the sound of Audrey's silver-tongued voice over the speakers as I watched her alluringly greet the Federal agents that answered the door on the central monitor in the surveillance room that was located in the basement. The incompetent fools had not been there five seconds and she had already disarmed their wall of professionalism with her feminine charm. Very impressive. Of course, Audrey did have this uncanny ability to effortlessly enchant any man she so choose into a bumbling buffoon. She was even able to enthrall my own mind into a pile of mush—not a small feet in any way, I can assure you—and cause my bodily functions to cease all movement on the rare occasion, much like the situation that occurred about a half hour ago in the bathroom. Usually it would not have worked on me, but she had looked eerily similar to Clarice in that moment. Her eyes were impossibly of Clarice's sapphire blue rather than her own indigo color and that voice…that voice almost ended the close friendship I shared with Audrey. (Quite honestly, it was her unexpectedly bold move of tracing my lips with her tongue that had forced me to shut my own self down before I ravaged her. Of course, it would not be Audrey I would be ravishing in my thoughts…)

Even after all of my work throughout those many years when she was younger of trying to flush out that horrid West Virginian accent, it still came back at times. Quite obviously, as I just learned, it comes out when she is attempting to distract another man. Closing my eyes for a moment, I tried to recollect my self-control over my body. Too many nights I had awakened violently from a dream of Clarice, usually covered in sweat and fully aroused. This previous night had been one of the most realistic I had dreamt since that night after the Chesapeake lake house fiasco. Just thinking about those vivid, graphic images caused me to involuntarily shudder. That gaze in her eyes alone had almost shattered the restraint I so proudly held over my every action.

Now that I reflect on these past few years, staying with my true love's twin sister—who unbeknownst to me had been in love with me all this time—in order to briefly recover from my injuries—physically as well as emotionally—that she had so critically applied to my being at Chesapeake was perhaps not my best idea.

Do not get me wrong. I do care for Audrey deeply. I would even go as far to say that I love her. However, the love I feel for Audrey is not nearly the same as I feel for my Clarice. I have considered the distinct possibility that had I never been caught, had Clarice never entered my life, Audrey and I would have most definitely ended up together in the future. The thought of that in no way being able to happen saddens me more than should be comfortable given everything.

But what is done is done. There is neither a point nor a need to question the possible outcomes of situations in a horrid game of 'what ifs'. Life would be a paranoid catastrophe of chaotic disaster if lived in that manner.

Turning my attention back to the screen, I thought back to the strange scene that I had occurred in the lavatory. Why had Audrey chosen to approach me in such a suggestive method? It was random, unsystematic, very much unlike her. She must have been provoked somehow—

Ah.

Brava, my dear, dear Audrey.

Two can most certainly play at that game.

*.*.*

"How did I do?" I asked breathlessly as I entered the room. The moment the agents had left, I had turned on my heels and raced to the elevator. Although it had been only seconds, the way down to the basement had seemed like hours. Patience has never been one of my strongest suits. Big shocker there, I know.

Placing down the paper he had been reading, Hannibal's gaze swept over me, his lips smiling. "Marvelously. Your superb performance would have made even Shakespeare weep at its unparalleled beauty." He cocked his head to the side in an inquiring manner. "Tell me, have you ever considered a career in acting?"

I snorted at his outrageous question, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall next to the doorway. "Sure, H. I'd fit _right_ into Hollywood. All I would have to do is have a complete plastic surgery make-over, smile superficially in front of the cameras, blow my money on shit I don't need, and act like a total greedy asshole when the doors are closed."

Chuckling, he leaned back in the roll-y chair, slender fingers linked together behind his head. "My dear, has anyone ever told you that you are rather brutally honest when it comes to your opinion?"

"No. Shockingly, it's not actually a common thing that people say to a serial killer. The brutal part? Every second of every day. The honest part? Not so much."

His eyes glittered humorously. "Touché."

All of the sudden, the fatigue caused from my performance hit me like the train from that movie, 'Unstoppable'. I sunk into the chair beside him, rubbing the bridge of my nose wearily. "So, you think they took the bait?"

"Most definitely. Had I not been in on this plan, I would have fallen for it myself."

Looking over my shoulder, I saw his somewhat look of innocence. "Uh huh, right," I replied, grinning crazily.

His eyebrows rose in a clear show of over-exaggerated surprise. "You do not believe me?"

"Nope," I stated, making a popping sound with my lips at the end of the word. I turned around in my chair so that my leg accidently brushing up against his. "Although your compliment is highly valued, you are far too smart and observant for any sort of fabricated presentation, hun."

Hannibal seemed to consider my statement for a second. "All too true, my dear." He stretched his arms out briefly before standing up. "We have dinner reservations at 8:00. I hope you do not mind, but I took the liberty in acquiring an evening gown for you."

"Of course I do not mind. How can a woman say no to a gift bought for her?" I easily countered back.

Hannibal leaned back against the control panel, his hands griping the edge as his arms held his weight. "Audrey, I have not been fair in acknowledging your clearly uncomfortable position in these proceedings. I would like to let you know that I deeply appreciate and treasure—in an amount that exceeds any assortment of words—what you are doing for my happiness even with the comprehension of the bittersweet reality that the successful result of this scheme will cause you a great deal of pain and agony. Also, I would like you to know that I realize that this plan must be quite difficult for you to do considering your feelings towards me—"

"As you should also know that I would do anything for you because of the fact that I love you."

He blinked once at my statement before locking stares with me in an intense battle. I could tell that my blunt declaration of my love for him had shaken him rather distinctly. I knew he already knew my feelings for him, I also acknowledged that it is another thing entirely to go and verbal outright speak those said feelings. Like an entire freaking universe different.

Though, what he did next shocked me so bad, hell, I can _still_ feel the shockwaves trembling over my body at just the thought of it.

With the speed of a striking cobra, he leaned down swiftly and kissed my lips ferociously in an unexpected blaze of unrestrained passion. It was like some kind of ravage animal was unleashed within him. My mind went utterly blank in absolute astonishment as all of my thought process shut down completely. His lips were soft on mine, but not in any way gentle. My breathing had totally stopped which was ironically in contrast with my heart, which was pounding like a fervently mad jackhammer in my chest. Suddenly, he ripped his deliciously dangerous mouth from mine, ragged breath matching mine as my body abruptly remembered to breathe again. I felt his warm breath once again on the side of my neck. His lips were so close to my ear that I could almost feel them moving as he spoke in a soft, seductive tone. "And maybe after dinner we can have dessert…" he trailed off as he snagged my earlobe in his mouth, tugging on it none too gently in a most suggestive fashion.

Then he was gone. Vanished into thin air like he hadn't even been there in the first place. It was several seconds after Hannibal had swept out of the room until I could gather my wits about me. Blinking several times almost in wonder, I tenderly touched my fingers onto my lips before turning the chair in the direction of the doorway as I gazed in awe into the space it occupied. I couldn't possibly tell you how long I sat there staring at that doorway. Time seemed extraordinarily trivial at this moment. Turning back around in my chair—still stuck in a lovesick daze—I spotted out of the corner of my eye the paper that he had been reading when I had first walked in here. I picked it up to examine it more closely. It was a torn page from a phone book. Even with my superior vision I still had to squint to read the tiny print. Under 'Food', the restaurant Citronelle was circled in thick black sharp. Written next to it in the elegant cursive that I had oh so grown use to was the phrase, 'Reservations at 8:00 PM'.

Huh. What a strange coincidence. Citronelle was the restaurant that had the Napoleon crème brûlée, my favorite dessert—

My lips, which had been curling upward, froze in mid-movement as did the rest of my body.

Wait a god-fucking-damn second.

I started ticking things off on my fingers unconsciously.

Having dessert…Citronelle…reservations…

Oh.

_Oh_.

Reality smacked me back with the force of an enraged bull charging full speed into me.

Wow. What a fucking bastard. That was such a dick move he had pulled it wasn't even _funny_.

I mean, I knew he had done that on purpose to get me back for what I had done earlier. But even I didn't go that far—

My mind flashbacked to his reaction to me pretending to be Clarice…the way his wiry muscles tensed up as if being forced to be frozen in some fierce attempt to preserve one's collapsed self-control…or the way I could faintly feel his magnificent form tremble when I grazed his lips with my teeth…

Okay. Sooooo, maybe I kinda sorta did actually in a way deserve that.

But I'm still not letting him off that easily.

It's 2-1, Hannibal…for now.

Let the games begin, my friend.

**A/N: *ducks and runs for cover as sharp objects are thrown* Okay! Okay! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Don't kill me! I am a very, very loyal Clarice and Hannibal fan! Trust me! Ya gotta believe me! Please!**

**Okay, so let me make this very clear in case I had not before. Hannibal and Audrey have a very unique and unusual relationship, one that it never expressed nor even acknowledged in either the books or the movies. This is because Thomas Harris did not allow Hannibal to have anyone that was that close to him for a long period of time. Audrey has known Hannibal for nearly three decades. It makes sense that they would have something special. Their relationship is not a romantic one, but a very, very, very close one. Their fates are so tightly intertwined that it is impossible to break without causing the other pain.**

**Now that I think about it, I do hope I wasn't too out of character for Hannibal. I just wanted to establish the pretense of two hunters testing the other's weaknesses in a playful manner. Much like two lion cubs play-fighting just to get a feel for the real thing, Hannibal and Audrey use the knowledge of the other one's weakness to probe the . It's just a game. Nothing more…**

**So don't go all batshit crazy in the reviews. I don't want an explosion of pandemonium in there. At least not one in a bad way.**

**Also, I do believe I need to address the situation with the FBI agents. The FBI agents do not know who Audrey really is. It is all part of her and Hannibal's plan. More so Hannibal's plan than Audrey's considering the nature of it. **

**Also, like Audrey alias? Thought y'all would. I did it with all of you lovely dears in mind…and to sooth the potential ruffled feathers over Audrey's and Hannibal's actions.**

**WHICH WERE MEANINGLESS. THEY ARE JUST PLAYIN' A GAME. THAT IS ALL.**

**Oh yeah, and the whole "I'm afraid not" thing that Hannibal said and Audrey replied "thought you were a human being". It's an old joke. Look at like it being spelled 'I'm a frayed knot.'**

**Yes, horrible puns are awesome.**

**Hmmm…so what is this plan that Hannibal and Audrey are talking about? And what was the conversation that took place between Audrey and the FBI agents about? How do you think this dinner is gonna turn out?**

**Guess y'all are just gonna have to wait and find out, huh? *winks***

**Ta ta,**

**Dreamiest Nightmare**


	6. Chapter 5: Blue Eyes

**A/N: Hello again! I must say it made me very sad to see that I only got three reviews for the previous chapter. I really do enjoy having feedback. C'mon, now and don't make me beg.**

**Okay. So we are back to Clarice's point of view. And we also have the moment you all have been waiting for…the introduction of Charles "Charlie" Porter AKA Clarice's fiancé. Yes, you do get to finally see who this mysterious person is that is 'stealing' Clarice from Lecter.**

**It should be noted that Clarice has been in a lot of distress for these past two weeks that have passed by in the story. If she seems out of character in this chapter, that is why. I mean, wouldn't you be a little off your norm if you'd been going through what she'd been going through? Yeah, thought so.**

**Also, look for similarities in this chapter. Do Charlie's actions to Clarice remind anyone of a particularly familiar someone? Of a certain event that occurred previously? It should. **

**Disclaimer: To see the full disclaimer, check the prologue. In this chapter, I do not own the song lyrics to 'Blue Eyes' by Within Temptation.**

_It's burning me up inside  
Lost all my tears, can't cry  
No reason, no meaning  
Just hatred  
No matter how hard I try  
You fear the beast inside  
It's growing, it's waiting  
Just to hurt you_

**Chapter 5: Blue Eyes**

_That same evening, 5:57 PM_

"What the hell do mean that you had people have her interviewed today?"

"I'm sorry, Clarice—"

"Don't you start 'sorrying me', Mister Crawford!" I snarled into the mouthpiece of the receiver. "And it's 'Agent Starling' to you, sir."

I heard a defeated sigh on the other end. "Look, I know you are not happy with this—"

"Damn right I'm not happy! I was supposed to interview her!" I practically screamed.

"Will you just listen to me?"

"NO!" I threw the phone at the wall with such force that it actually went _through_ it. Or should I say, it went half-way into the wall, sticking out almost comically. Honestly, it would have been extremely funny had I not been so mad.

And trust me when I say, I was _pissed_.

See, my anger has nine stages, much like the hell from _Dante's Inferno._ Today I happened to be at seven, AKA Violence. I was so incredibly infuriated that my body was vibrating in fury. My fingers were clenched into tight fists, causing my nails to dig into the palms of my hands so hard, that I could feel them drawing blood. The scent of metal hit the air from the said blood as I continued my mental rant. They couldn't do this to me! I'm a GODDAMN SPECIAL AGENT! Lecter is MINE! This case is MINE—

_But this isn't your case anymore. You are bait. The cheese of the mouse trap. The raw steak hanging in the lion's cage. Nothing more, nothing less._

_And if Lecter really did give a damn about you, wouldn't he be here? To help you fight for your precious lambs? Wouldn't he? Of course he would. Clearly, the Doctor doesn't need you anymore. You were just petty entertainment to him. Mild amusement. A Greek tragedy of an emotional past that served as a suitable diversion from the bore of the rest of the world. Now that he has the 'Archangel', who you know—despite the fact that no one alive knows anything about her—that she is absolutely gorgeous, extremely intelligent, and irresistibly charming. He doesn't love you._

_Never did._

All the rage and fight that had pierced through my veins vanished. The adrenaline high that I had been riding on crashed. I collapsed on to the couch behind me, sobbing uncontrollably as I curled into a ball. Why the _fuck_ did this always happen to me? What the hell did I do to God to piss him off so bad that shit like this kept occurring?

You know what? I honestly don't wanna know the answer to that question.

It felt like hours later when I finally regained control of my body. Realistically it was only about 30 minutes. Yeah. Only.

The worst part was that I didn't even know why this was such a big deal. I should be the happiest woman in the world. I was getting married in a few months to an okay-looking guy that didn't seem fazed by my previous associations with Doctor Lecter and my career was on the re-bound.

So why then was I so completely miserable?

_Oh, puh-lease, girl._ The darker side of my mind snarled._ You know why. A one Doctor Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter having a female companion. You were fine when he was infatuated with you and you only. Now, he's having romantic relations with someone else. That someone who has replaced you in his thoughts and feelings. Who is having the chance at a life that he offered you—a life that you rejected in those infamous words that came out of that stupid mouth of yours…_

Never in a thousand years.

Am I the world's biggest idiot or what? _Yes._ Was I any happier in this life, in this career, than I was five years ago? _Hell to the no._ Then what was the point? _There wasn't one…_

Was there?

_Nope._

How could I, a well-scrubbed rube with little taste, a girl of pure West Virginia that was one generation away from being poor, white tornado trash, compete with a woman who clearly has captivated the Good Doctor's attention? A beautiful, intelligent, charming, female serial killer who clearly shared many of his same likings and tastes? One that was his precise match in every way…

I was so out of my league it wasn't even _funny_.

_HA!_ The darkest corner quivered in victory. _You, Clarice Marie Starling, are jea—_

The phone rang in a shrilling manner, interrupting my thoughts. I didn't have to move to check the Caller ID. I knew who it was. Only Jack Crawford would be that big of a god-forsaken moron to call me after I had pulled that little charade earlier. ARGH. Why the hell couldn't he take a damn hint? Did I have to spell it out for him? What. An. Idiot. Twisting my body so that I was laying on my stomach, I grabbed the nearest pillow and covered my head with it much like a teenager would do when trying to block sunlight from their eyes as their parents attempted to wake them up on a school day via window opening. As hard as I tried to block out the insistent attention-seeking screams coming from the phone, they still pierced my ear drums. Thankfulness filled me when it stopped and went to voicemail. Of course, that was short-lived due to the fact that Jack Crawford's voice came on a few moments later.

"_Starling, I know you do not want to listen to me, but listen anyway. The FBI agents sent to Lecter's former mistress's house were ordered there by Natasha Halls. Yes, she was well aware of the fact that this was your day off. I don't think she likes you very much."_

No fucking shit Sherlock. What was your first clue? The haughty stares, the snobby nicknames, or the fact that when we left the meeting room two weeks ago, she nearly knocked me over by ramming her shoulder into mine when we tried walking out at the same time? Did I mention that we were RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU?

"_Anyway, the agents—two rookies, mind you—arrived at the mistress's household—or should I say mansion—and were um, very taken by her. Apparently Miss Julianne Foster was not informed of this meeting because she answered the doorway in a_—there was some rustling of papers—_black, latex, low-cut, halter mini-dress and thigh-high leather black boots with three-inched heels."_

Huh. Well, that _was_ a shocker. Doctor Lecter use to date someone that dressed like _that_? That went to night clubs? Who the hell was this woman?

"_The guards were completely disarmed by her attire and didn't hear hardly anything from her. Basically a giant waste of time."_

I couldn't help but snicker as that whole scenario played out in my mind. Two male rookies going to a mansion that was owned by apparently a beautiful woman who was dressed to go late night clubbing was down-right hilarious. I would applaud her if she wasn't causing another round of envy to course through my veins like flames of burning fire.

"_However, we did get information regarding a possible lead on his favorite operas. One of them, 'Vide cor Meum', is being shown at the Kennedy Center Opera House next Wednesday."_

He paused, almost as if regretting to have to say the next part. Crawford didn't need to say it. I already knew what was going to be asked of me. Anyone wanna bet me fifty bucks that he says…

"_Halls wants you there."_

Yep. Called that one. Fifty bucks, please. Anyone…?

"_Clare, I'm sorry for—"_

That's all I heard because I had violently jumped up from the sofa, grabbed that damn thing and threw it in the direction of the wall where the phone was, but it instead smacked into a lamp on a nearby table. I didn't even hear it shatter into a million pieces.

How dare he have the audacity to call me by my nickname? Are ya freaking kidding me? He didn't even have my permission to be within 10 feet of my body right now. Not after that little stunt he pulled two weeks ago.

_He_ was the one that should have been my ally, but no. No no no. He was in on the whole god-fucking-damn thing. That so-called meeting at the FBI HQ? A set-up. Yeah, I discovered that lovely piece of shitty information about a week ago. Me reading out that letter out loud? Also a set-up. A scare tactic, an intimidation approach. A way to get me to shut up, sit down, and do what I'm told with no questions asked.

Uh huh. Cause _that_ works on a stubborn, determined, independent woman like myself.

Don't ya just love the FBI? And lest we forget all those other government agencies. All those greedy bastard bureaucrats waiting in line to kiss the top dog's ass.

Yeah…it's lovely.

Plopping back down the worn out couch, I glanced over at the clock. 6:19. Charlie should be home soon. That thought made me grimace rather than grin blissfully.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

Faintly, I could hear the turning of a key and the front door squeak open. "Honey! I'm home!"

WOW. Talk about the most cliché, couple movie line _ever_…

"Hey, Charlie," I replied monotonously. Huh. Interesting. I think Arnold Schwarzenegger sounded more emotional in _Terminator_.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him enter the room. Charlie was 6'3 with tanned skin and a muscular body. His eyes were a beautiful blue-green and his hair was a dark brown, always worn short with the front spiked up. Fine so I guess I wasn't being fair earlier. He was rather good-looking. Okay, okay! He was freaking gorgeous! Does this _look_ like a goddamn courtroom? No? Then get off my fucking case. Sheesh.

Great. Wonderful. Now I'm talking to myself. Isn't that supposed to be the first sign of madness? Let me just add that to the list of all the wonderful things that have been happening to me lately.

That extremely long list of blissful happiness.

"How was your—"

I could tell when he stopped walking as his heavy footsteps seemed to freeze. It wasn't like I blamed him. If I was in his shoes, I would probably be freakin' out if I came home and saw a hole in the wall—that was now smoking—with the phone and answering machine protruding from it and my fiancé trembling on the couch.

"Clarice?"

I forced myself not to flinch. It was nothing against him, but it's just…it's just that Charlie pronounced my name in an…"un-Lecter" manner.

Ugh, girl. You are incredibly pathetic, you know that right?

Acknowledged. Understood. Excepted.

You, Clarice Starling, are the world's biggest moron.

I thought we already established this…?

SHUT UP.

Damn voices…

FOCUS!

Suddenly, two warm, strong arms encircled around me, embracing my figure. Holding me close, they rocked me back and forth while my fiancé whispered sweet nothings in my ear. Wrapping my arms around his middle, I pressed my check against his chest; my eyes dry of tears from overuse in too short of a time span. He gripped me tighter, placing his chin on top of my head and stroked my back soothingly while holding my body close to his own. It was a nice moment I needed. In fact, it was perfect until I smelt that cologne…

It was expensive and tantalizing with a hint of danger and spice. Almost unconsciously, I turned my head and pressed my nose into his chest, closing my eyes while inhaling deeply. Mmm-mmm. That was some serious yummy-ness. I could smell that all day and never grow tired of it. It was like heaven in scent form. I breathed in again. Hold on…hadn't I smelt this before? It seemed awfully familiar. I mean, I knew I knew that fragrance from somewhere before—

Wait.

Chesapeake Bay.

Lake house.

Kitchen.

Refrigerator.

Barred teeth.

_That's my girl._

Oh my god…

It was _his_ cologne.

WHAT THE HELL WAS MY FIANCÉ DOING WEARIN' IT?

Wait. This _was_ Charlie, right? Not…him? I could feel paranoia start to set in. Pushing myself away gently, as to not rouse suspicion, I looked up at the eyes of my comforter. I felt the terror slip away as I saw the concerned blue-green and not amused maroon.

Charlie stroked my cheek with a single finger before pressing his lips on the twin, dried tear streaks that ran down my face. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

I nodded my head, not trusting myself to speak. Actually I didn't really trust myself in general with anything. Especially not of late. Not with the world going all ape-shit on me.

Ha! Now I'm sounding like Ardelia.

Hmm. Speaking of which, she still hasn't talked to me since that little incident in front of the Hoover Building. Probably need to apologize sometime.

Meeh, it can wait.

Right now, I was being distracted by Charlie's mouth against mine. His strong, firm body silently seemed to coax mine to lie down on my back. For several minutes, I greatly enjoyed the teenage-ish make out session. But it wasn't my fiancé's lips or his body that I was thinking about during this time. No. I was back in the lake house…

I was pressed between _his_ body and the refrigerator with my ponytail caught in the door with his lips on my own; soft and lovingly. I was frozen in place, my muscles completely immobile as my morals and ethics took over, forcing me to not kiss him back. I was gripping the appliance with all my strength to keep myself from grabbing his body and clutching it to my own. Holding him as we began to—

What have you done to me, Doctor? What have you changed me into? Who have I become?

What have I become?

"I have dinner reservations for us at your favorite restaurant," Charlie whispered huskily on my lips, bringing me back to the present. I don't even think he noticed me not reacting to his kiss.

I nudged my nose against his, my eyes fluttering open slightly. "Oh?"

"Yeah…" he kissed me again briefly before rolling us over so that I was on top of him with my hands on my chest and his arms around my waist. "You still like Citronelle, don't you?"

"Mmmm. You know I love it," I replied, resting my chin on my linked fingers and smiling kindly. "How did you ever manage to get in? It takes forever to even get _considered_ to be on the waiting list."

He smirked slightly. (God, I loved that crooked smile.) "I have to keep some mystery. I don't wanna bore you."

Laughing, I raked my fingers through his thick locks teasingly. "You could never bore me."

His aquamarine eyes sparkled. "Good to know."

"So, when do I need to be ready by?"

"Wellllll…." he drew out the word leisurely. "Reservations are at 8:20."

Charlie then gave me a look equivalent to a wolf leering on his prey as his hands began to move downward. "Plenty of time to—"

"—get ready!"

I literally leapt backward from the couch as panic seeped into my body. As I ran from the room, I spotted out of the corner of my eye the bewildered and almost hurt expression on Charlie's face. Guilt flooded through me but not enough to make me go back.

There's no going back…

You can never go back…

Not after everything.

Racing up the stairs, I darted to my room, shutting the door behind me. I crumbled into a ball on my bed, hugging my knees to my body. I could feel my bottom lip start to tremble again but no tears would come. There was no use in denying it any longer. I hugged my body closer…

_Closer…_

_Closer…_

…and repressed a shudder that wasn't from being cold as I reached the inevitable conclusion that seemed to have been written into my destiny from that single moment of that fateful day that brought us together in that dungeon-like asylum.

Doctor Lecter was taking over me.

**A/N: Aw, poor Clarice. Completely and utterly hormonally unbalanced. Ah…yes.**

**I do hope that this chapter was up to y'all's standards. I thought it was an interesting to try to write Clarice with another man. Well, she's with another man but mentally with Lecter…yeah nevermind. It's kinda confusing.**

**I tried to keep Clarice in character. If she wasn't, I apologize, but I believe that it was necessary**

**Well, this is hopefully cleared up the whole FBI agent conversation that went on while we were in Hannibal's head in the surveillance room. Also, this allows us to catch up with what Clarice has been going through for the past couple weeks. **

**Oh? Did some of y'all notice the, ahem, restaurant name? And the reservation time? **

**Look *clears throat* familiar?**

***grins evilly***

**Oh, yes, this dinner will be funnnn. **

**Until next time…**

**Ta ta,**

**Dreamiest Nightmare**


End file.
